Cogitation
by haizakis
Summary: Cogitation (n): the action of thinking deeply about something; contemplation.; "I have thought long and hard to forget, but here I stand in front of my most vivid memories, I never thought the past sticks onto you like yesterday."; (Third-person, introspective, headcanon-based, post-movies, focuses on Sally and Lightning and his family)
1. Chapter 1: Resurfacing

**COGITATION**

Written by: MOONY  
Written on: 08/20/2017  
Chapter 1 Revised on: 08/28/17

A/N: I never knew I'd like cars this much and it raises so many questions about its universe but anyways here's my edgy ass bringing anther fanfic. I'm supposedly going to make this a oneshot but a really long one—I'm bad as fuck with multi chapter stories but since it is long, I might just post a part of it that looks like a chapter one to see if you guys are interested in it.

A quick overview of this literary work:

1\. Lightning McQueen is currently at the age of 28. For those who have read the first version of this chapter knows that in this story, Lightning was supposed to be 39 which was, personally, far more suited for the timeline set equivalent to the original Cars timeline, however since it's in human years I could not possibly imagine his parents alive and kicking ass at the age of 60 or more. Thus, I have aged down Lightning in order to give his parents a bit more appropriate age.

2\. Sally Carrera, I presume, would be around her mid twenties—in this work she would be around 23. I cannot prove that that age is appropriate for her since law school demand more education years and in addition to that, there has to be years and years in between since she met Lightning which was the barren age of Radiator Springs. Again, I am simply putting an age with an appearance akin to it in human age equivalent, if they were cars they'd be much older as they age most likely slower than ever.

*The timeline is wrong in a sense as Route 66 went barren _for years_ considering that ages between _humans and cars_ do not connect. However, I could not find another analogy to describe their ages—or the age/time gap. (I mean, Doc is dead but his trainer isn't, how cool is that). So all in all, In Human Years equivalent, their age group would be around their thirties as this is post Cars 3 (and everything).

3\. This takes place after the movies (1, 2, and 3). I am not knowledgeable of other universes of this franchise as I have focused solely on the movies. All other mentions of this universe are purely out of my headcanons and imagination.

4\. They will be humanized as my weeaboo ass can't survive writing mechanical beings, I'd die before I know another word for engines and car doors. Honestly, if I could write better in a mechanical analogy way—I would've but I can't.

5\. Doc is alive in here because my weak ass heart is indenial that he's dead.

6\. Any resemblance of situations, names, places in this work are pure coincidental and/or used for fictional purposes. The Cars franchise does not belong to me and it belongs purely to the creators of cars, Pixar and Co. This literary work is solely made for entertainment and in no way do I use this work for commercial purposes.

 **TRIGGER WARNING: VULGAR LANGUAGE, DOMESTIC ABUSE, DRUG AND ALCOHOL USE, CHEATING, DIVORCE, ADULTERY, NONCONSENSUAL SEX, MURDER, BLOOD AND VIOLENCE. (for the whole story, not just this chapter so some triggers may not appear now but be warned for future chapters)**

* * *

 _ **CHAPTER ONE: Resurfacing.**_

* * *

"Hey, um—Stickers? You've got mail…," It wasn't the usual bored tone, often she'd stack letters addressed to her love on his table—they've agreed that fan letters would have their time sometime a day, but not right now and that Sally need not to call him once the mail comes however it was odd that she called his attention for this parcel. Not only that, it was odd the usual morning mail came by late afternoon.

A raise of McQueen's brow as he scoots close with his newly bought roller skates, he could swear he heard his love sigh and roll her eyes at the sound of the wheels rolling on the wooden ground. "Whose is it from? Does it say anything?" Calloused hands run through fiery, crimson locks as his free arm wraps around Sally's waist, nose burying in her baby blue locks.

She fumbles around the box, looking at the bottom and top and at the sides however there were nothing written from where it came from. Even McQueen looked at the box, thinking maybe Sally overlooked a really tiny handwriting, however that was not the case. They exchanged glances before settling themselves on the lounge where they sat side by side on the brown, woolen couch that positioned parallel to a flat screen 27" inch television. Sally hands him the package, knowing it'd be rude if it was her who opened his mail—McQueen then accepts it and though hesitantly, he unwraps the tie and rips apart the paper wrapper.

The box was dyed in a simple white, as if the paper had just be re-used, McQueen was not exactly picky with his gifts but this was suspicious. The concern and trepidation were evident on both of their eyes, though much more on Sally's part. They've received a good amount of hate letters every now and then—but nothing of this sort.

However, again that was not the case, once McQueen lifts up the cover, only pictures of him as a child were scatted all over with a simple card on top saying— **"I found you."**

Sally's eyes widened, though it softened at the sight of a young, innocent boy playing around the park—splashing in the oceans, fighting the small waves and throwing the starfishes back into the waters once the tide went low. "Is that … you? You were so cute…," There were many other photographs that she never knew she would've seen but when she tried to reach out to it, the box fell from McQueen's lap as he stood up without any logical thought. Anxiety and fear wells up in his heart as the dread was evident upon his trembling fingers and uneasy breathing.

"L … Lightning—?" Concern overwhelms her as she stands up hoping to calm his anxiety, although he slaps her hand away—eyes wide as if what he was seeing was not her. His complexion pale and his figure as akin to a child's terrified body.

He dashes out of their house, hoping to find some peace and quiet somewhere far away but the worst timing came when his best friend approached him.

"Gee—you look constipated? Did 'ya and Sally get in'ta 'nother f'ght?" There was of course worry in his tone, but for the most part it was a joke. McQueen had no time to joke around, he ignored his best friend's presence and moved along which earned a curious eye on other residents such as Flo and Ramone who witnessed it closer.

"Mnm, somethin's up with hotshot…," though Flo's usual cool aura was evident—it was obvious there was uncertainty along with Ramone's poker face expression has turned into a frown.

Sally then was the next to go out of the house, sweat dripping from her forehead as she faces her friends, "have you seen Lightning?" her voice, hoarse—as she had screamed his name again and again before he had dashed out of their house.

They exchanged glances, knowingly that if Sally called the other by his actual name, it meant there was something really going on.

"He suddenly just dashed off, I couldn't chase him—even for a racer he's fast without a car!" though he tries his best to crack a joke, it did not ease Sally's anxieties. He then emits a cough to compose himself, "Um… Miss Sally…? What happened?" He was fine with her not telling him, after all it was their privacy—but as a best friend, it too concerned him, knowing that this was the first time he had seen Lightning in such a dreaded state. This was on a whole other level from Lightning's depression from the rushing in of the next generation racers. This was not about pride or future—this was about the matters of the heart and the past.

She trips despite staying still; knees wobble—however, Flo being the closest caught her before she fell. She regains her balance, a faint upturn of her lips shows gratitude for aiding her. "I… I—I honestly don't know, you see—a parcel was sent here, we thought it was just an ordinary fan letter or hate mail but… it didn't have any receiving name or where it's from." She pauses before regaining her normal breath. "Then… he opened it and there were pictures—of him, as a child. I thought it was cute—but I was wrong, it horrified him so much. He fell silent, he trembled and I—I don't know what happened. The parcel… triggered him…?"

The trio then exchanged glances, still no clue of what could've happened—perhaps another mystery to unlock?

Sally shook her head to calm her racing thoughts, "I'm sorry, I'm overreacting—this isn't like me, but—I've just never seen him this… scared?" as if the whole world came crashing down, the sudden realization of emptiness—the fact that she never knew McQueen the way she thought she did. He was a prideful racer, layer one—he was a huge softie, calm and always so chill, layer two—he was insecure, he had fears for his career that he had loved so much, layer three. But, is that it?

"Um, Sally—maybe you would want us to help you? After all, Lightning is our friend too." Ramone insists, his tone changing from chill to a rather more alert and polite one.

A gentle smile graces her lips as she gives a faint bow of appreciation, "That would be lovely, let's head inside."

Sally opens the main door; lithe, trembling digits upon the door knob as she turns it slowly, letting her visitors first remove their shoes and place them by the rack near the door then enter the cozy household. Once she closed the door, she emits a sigh. "I'm sorry, the lounge is a bit messy—the parcel is there on the ground since it fell, I couldn't fix it yet since I chased Lightning." She walks by, sitting on the single sofa chairs while the rest sat on the longer couch.

They didn't reply, although Sally could assume that Flo was enjoying the photographs of the young hotshot. It wasn't always they'd see pictures such as this, they even wondered if they ever existed.

Although, what caught their attention was Ramone's sudden noise, "Oh!" a pause, "This guy looks familiar—" "Hey, love, don't you think he's familiar?" he inquires towards his wife as he scoots closer to Flo.

"Hmm… oh? You're right, isn't he um…? Oh darn, I can't get the name—it's at the tip of my tongue!" Her brows furrow as Ramone's does the same as well, their actions mirroring each other, an arm over their abdomen and the other half raised to their chin in ponder as their index finger tapped continuously, hoping the idea would cross their minds.

Sally, feeling utterly useless, simply sits restlessly, fingers twitching as they're clasped together, teeth biting onto her bottom lip and eyes gazes towards the married couple and Mater who kept on silently staring at four or five photos. She only had one paper in hand, it was the top card placed on the photographs. **"I found you."** it says so vaguely yet Sally could feel her heartstrings cut and torn apart. What could this mean?

 _"Oh Lightning… please let me help you…,"_ she hangs her head low, this time she begs herself not to stay behind the screen in another place. This time, she'll be by his side.

* * *

 _Once again, return to nothingness._

* * *

"God no…," with gritted teeth, he fights through his anxiety and trepidation as he drives around. It wasn't like him to drive recklessly, well—at this age. "God—fucking no!" his fist slamming on the vehicle horn as it emits a loud honking noise. It wasn't concrete if the anger resonated more than the fear, there was a hint of sadness and loneliness—the agony, the despair that he had once set aside began to overflow in his heart.

He drives around and around Willy's Butte, reaching almost twenty laps of reckless driving and speed—it was a miracle he hadn't fallen down the cactus pit yet. "Everything was already fine; I've had it all…" Although he younger self begs to differ, he could conclude that this life was fulfilling—he had seven wins—currently carrying Doc's colour and his name while being a crew chief to an aspiring professional racer who'll one day win the whole world. He found the love of his life; he had found a place among this place. He belonged here—he belonged to a place he once detested. And to think that the past would continue to creep up in your heart like a sticky tape residue.

All this wouldn't have been possible if _he_ hadn't left. There were those rare nights he'd pray to this nonexistent God, _"Thank you for letting him disappear my life—when I thought that that was the worst thing that could've happened, it became my reason to have something else."_ Lightning could remember prayers from his younger self resonating within the depths of his memories. The way his hoarse voice begged the skies to reply, the way his tears streamed and his sobs stifles so to not wake up his sleeping mother.

"Why did he come back…? No... Maybe this was just a prank—he couldn't have possibly been still alive." He could remember a brown rusty, covered in moss and dirt house; he could remember how its windows no longer had locks and so during the strongest storms the windows would continuously bang open and close, on an unfortunate occasion, the class would break and its pieces would scramble on the ground inside the house and some fell on the roof of the first floor. He could remember a fiery orange engulfing this lovely, wreckage of a house—he could remember a woman standing still in the middle of the flames, the door open for him to rush inside, he could remember her hands clasped together as if Mother Mary in prayer, waiting for the lord to take her body and soul to heaven. He could remember how he ached to run inside to his mother however she begged him to stay out—her head shaking.

His morals screamed inside his head, and until he decided on an action—it was too late, the roof and ceilings had given up, and it fell and blocked the doorway and any other pathways of entrance. Before the world fell silent, the last he has ever head were screams from his mother dear and the agonizing screeching of his… _father_.

He shakes his head, the memory too vivid—and alas, his wandering thoughts have led him to crash into the cactus pit, finally.

"Shit, shit—Ah shit!" He tries to do everything he could to go back but there was no other way as he gets stuck betwixt all these cacti.

The alarms of his cars go awry, he then hopes for someone to call Mater and to his car back into the path. Even going out of the car would be far too dangerous, he'd face some angry cacti first and he wouldn't want that. He lets his head lay on his wheel as he begins to contemplate.

"How… could it be that he lived while she didn't?" sorrow seeps upon his lips. "Why did he come back? Why can't he leave me alone?" he was happy, he was content.

* * *

 _Dear me, may emptiness take me whole_

* * *

"Ohh that's right, he's that guy who hit the floor with my little sister!" Flo says with delight, although this received a disgusted look from Ramone. "She was a whore to begin with anyways, a good fit for that awful man." She adds with a rolls of her eyes, slender digits toy with her auburn locks as she crosses her leg. Ramone simply shakes his head as he scans some other photos with the same man in the background.

"Why is he here? Is there some connect to Lightning?" They exchanged glances; a realization hits them—although of course it was an assumption. "Could it be…?"

"No it can't be," Sally interjects sternly, brows furrowed. "He told me himself his parents died when he was very young. In the pictures it shows that he's around nine to ten years old. He never told me anything else, he dismissed the topic always—avoided it as much as possible but one day, he told me quickly to dismiss the situation that they were dead before he could actually get to know them." Her woeful expression disappears as her cold, calculating eyes focused on the pictures on the table.

Flo, Ramone and Mater knew this expression all too well—this was how she was on the first days she had stayed in this humble residence. She was distant, lost—ignorant and always so hard to reach. Her words were far too sophisticated, replied in facts and justified opinions. She was cold and hard as steel. This was the expression when she knew this was no time to dilly dally around. The last time she had turned like this was when Lightning had received a severe crash a year ago causing him to be locked away in his depression and solitude for months—Sally suffered distance as well, she knew her love needed some space to heal, but she herself felt like a useless being.

Sally arranges the photos from what she assumes the youngest to the oldest, leaving some spaces for the photos Flo, Ramone and Mater had in hand. "Assuming the timeline goes like this, there is a possibility the culprit is sending a message that, let's presume is a "he", he is aware of Lightning's actions since he was around…" She pauses as she looks at the youngest Lightning she could spot, "Three…?" A puzzled expression is evident as the time gaps was rather odd. The man in the photo when he was three was not the same as the rest in the next photographs and in addition to that, that was the only photo of him being that young—everything else jumped to when he was eight years old and afterwards. She pause as she looks at the photographs Flo and Ramone has in hand. "I'd also assume it would be a "he" as there seems to be a hint that the man in Lightning's photo when he was three is trying to imply something."

Removing the three year old Lightning picture aside, creating two groups of photos, she analyzes her graph. "Why would this culprit add this photo which looks akin to a family photo to a bunch of photographs without the assumed father in this photo?" She raises the almost decaying photo in her hand. The other three simply exchange glances and shrug.

"And look, the next photo we see the same man in the one you're holding, Miss Sally, is when McQueen graduated elementary—he's with his assumed father but not the one with the three year old Lightning, but he appears behind—around at the corner." Mater butts in. Flo is amazed that mater was able to see it; however it was no time for astonishments. Sally agrees and states a temporary hypothesis. "Identifying the man in lightning's three year old picture as Man A and the recurring other man as Man B, we could hypothesize that Man A may have been the culprit to sending this mail. Man B on the other hand may have been… Lightning's adoptive father." Sally concludes.

"You mean…," Flo starts, "he's adopted?" Ramon finishes his wife's sentence.

She nods, "It's only an assumption, but we could see that in these two photos, despite the man looking somewhat similar, we could see that Man A has aged and has evident burn marks however retains his facial identification. If lightning says it was true that he saw his parents die, we could say that Man A was assumed dead on the day of the tragedy—thus, Lightning, still at a young age, was sent to a foster family who could nurture him which would result to Man B being the foster father and assumed to be the biological father."

Sally sighs, feeling that there is a hole in her hypothesis; she lays back, her hand running through her blue locks. _"What's missing?"_

"Miss Sally?" Mater interjects again, "If what you say could be true, how does it answer the culprit's motive and that card that says "I found you."? It doesn't make sense if the true father is sending this b'cause, if he wanted Lightning back, he could've filed for the papers to get him back… right?" Mater's confusion is evident, eyes unsure of where to look at despite the organized way of placement of the photographs.

Sally sighs, "I don't know, Mater… all I could say is that this is all something personal that we can't just create an assumption on." Even if someone could predict a whole timeline, we can never be sure on how to predict a plausible reason.

They all sigh in exasperation, shoulders drooping and Sally's cold demeanor reverts back to her gentle state—worry washing over.

"Hey Flo? You mentioned something about this guy right? Could you give me some more details?"

Flo nods, "Well, that was a hella long time ago—if I had to say… around 34 years ago? Boy that's a really long time ago—anyways, he's your local drunkard, gambler—although a lucky one, he's great enough he's a lucky bastard when it comes to gambling. Spends it all off on sex and more drinks and gambling." Ramone simply shakes his head as he knew the man as well.

"He met my sister in law, had sex with her the first time they met—don't ask me how I know. I just do." Ramone concludes, shuddering at the memory. If he wasn't that temporary bartender at that time he wouldn't have witnessed such public indecency. He was simply serving drinks since his best friend was sick and wanted him to cover for his place just for a night. He was confident in his bartender skills, and he expected drunkards and all, but not exhibitionists and this club of sex freaks.

Flo runs a soothing hand on her husband's back, trying to relieve him out of the memory. "My sister was a real whore and exhibitionist, the day he met that man—she removed her clothes and they smacked right in front of my husband. Well we weren't married at that time yet; nevertheless, we also saw it along with some others who were rooting for them as they apparently showcased a money-worthy exhibition."

Ramone could vividly remember how his sister in low slowly unbuttoned her shirt, showing no undergarments, the way she slid her thigh on his leg—lifting her skirt as he showed him her shaved pussy. It was bad enough Ramone could identify those small details; he had vowed to remember only his wife's genitals. The man was triggered, lifting her bottom up and let her sit on the bar, the glasses they order fell, well good enough it fell on Ramone's side, he caught it before the damage went on his bill. No before long the woman was naked, showing her bare self to the whole club, squirting her cum on the glass like a cow.

It was bad enough it happened right in front of him, not before long others decided to join in—some fucked on the dance floor, even the DJ himself joined in the orgy.

Sally's nose scrunched up in disgust, she couldn't imagine what Ramone had witnessed but definitely it was scarring.

"Anyways, this man was, I forgot his name—I think it was…," Flo began pondering but Ramone could only blankly reply, "Stefan, Stefan Hubert." He could never forget that name.

"Stefan… hmm…," Sally could've sworn that name was familiar—but her train of thoughts were disturbed when the echo of the doorbell was heard.

Sally stood up and checked the window to reveal Doc; it surprised her as it wasn't often that Doc would go out. She unlocked the door and offered the man to stay in but he politely declined, "Is mater there? Rookie is in a pinch." He says with an exasperated sigh.

Mater then runs up to the entrance, eyes shot open. "Is he alright?" Sally simply nods along while Doc shows them confusion. "Well I doubt he is, I can't get him out of the cactus pit." He scoffs then walks along, although before he goes far off, he turns his head and shoots a questioning gaze on Sally as if to ask, "What happened to him?" but he knew that now was not the time and Sally understood.

"I'm sorry Miss Sally, gotta go get my tow and pick up Lightnin'", he gives a polite bow and wears his sneakers then runs off.

Sally closes the door and walks back to the lounge, "I guess our meeting is done for now, Lightning wouldn't be happy if he knew we were trying to do solve his issue…," her gaze drops as she picks up the photographs and places them back in the box.

"It's alright, I think we learned a lot today—I mean, I guess I just realized how much we never really knew the hotshot." Flo sighs, every time they tried to dig a little deeper in his character, he's always dismissed it so quickly, and not even Sally could extract a part of him into the light. "My wife and I would like to go back here tomorrow, maybe we could solve a little more into this." Ramone suggests and Sally delightfully agrees.

"We'll see, I think Lightning has an interview to attend tomorrow, he'll be away so I guess we could have some time to investigate this further." A smile graces her lips.

.

.

.

 ** _"Found you, at long last."_**

* * *

A/N: hey, so how was it? I haven't been writing for a while so this is a hella rusty and crappy, but hoping this interested you! Please do leave a review if you'd still like to see the rest of the story! Have a lovely day!


	2. Chapter 2: Cyclic

Written on: 08/26/17

A/N: Hello again lovely people! Thank you so much for your kind reviews, I have responded to them all privately and as for the anonymus ones well, I'd like to thank you for having the time to send a little comment and hoping this new chapter would delight you more!

 **IMPORTANT:** My apologies for the sudden confusion, I have updated the main characters' estimated age—it doesn't make sense if a parent is 20+ years older and McQueen is in his forties and his parents are alive and seeking action. McQueen is therefore around his mid twenties while Sally is in her early twenties.

 **TRIGGER WARNING: VULGAR LANGUAGE, DOMESTIC ABUSE, DRUG AND ALCOHOL USE, CHEATING, DIVORCE, ADULTERY, NONCONSENSUAL SEX, MURDER, BLOOD AND VIOLENCE. (Again, this applies to the whole story)**

* * *

 ** _CHAPTER TWO: Cyclic._**

* * *

Mater hurriedly drives to Willy's Butte, finding the usual cactus patch that Lightning falls into when he miscalculates his distance and speed. Peeking over, he sees a familiar car stuck between the cacti, "Lightning!" and without a second thought he reverses the car and positions his car backwards and activated his tow. Hoisting the car back into the dirt path, he sped up—unsure if the racer had been stuck there for a long time.

Once Lightning was back on the road, Mater parks his car and gets out, he rushes to the other and knocks on his door, "Lightning! Are you okay?" But there was no response. He looks closer trying to fight the tint away but all he sees was his friend's head on the wheel, unconscious.

The worry overwhelms him, panic in his nerves as hands flail and gaze wandering everywhere, unsure of what to do first. Debating whether or not to tow the car despite his friend inside or crack the window open in order to unlock the door and free Lightning, he wondered what would be most appropriate—leaving him in this unguarded state might cause more trouble, he couldn't go back to town and get some help—however, fortunately, right on time Hudson had arrive, sensing that the racer would be in some sort of trouble.

"Mater, you should always have your phone with you—look at you now, panicking. What if something more grave happened?" he said sternly, though without means of attacking him. Hudson's brows furrow as he takes out the spare key Lightning had entrusted him to if ever something awful would happen to his car or inside it. "And for extra information, in these kinds of situation, pretending you're in the middle of nowhere, you have to break the window and unlock the door. Remember, these things can be rebuilt and fixed—but a life can't be fixed once it's passed."

Mater, with his head down in shame, gently and cautiously carries the unconscious man's body to Hudson's car, as it was more suitable for people while he properly hooked the racer's car. Quietly, the two men went to their respective vehicles—Mater delivering the car to Hudson's repair garage while Hudson went straight to his clinic.

* * *

 _Mother, Mother._

* * *

 ** _"_** ** _It's awful." I know._**

 ** _"_** ** _Aren't you tired?" A little bit._**

 ** _"_** ** _Don't you feel lonely?" I don't know._**

 ** _"_** ** _Are you alright?" It's hard to tell._**

 _A petite figure sits alone in a plastic stool, right in front of a small, rectangular, wooden table. Two plates in front of him—one for the rice while the other contained sardines. He holds his disposable spoon and fork that had been reused for a month, washed not so thoroughly you could still smell the stench of previous meals with the mixture of overuse of dishwashing soap. The light right above him sways and the floor at the second floor, creaking with every step or movement made. He dares to get a spoonful of rice laid in front of him, but his heart begs him not to._

 _The bottles that lay a mess by the living room, seen at the corner of his vision—here were pills and plastics containing some sort of powder that were sprawled on the table and the couch stained in urine, and the television showing the colour bars and its audio akin to a screeching noise. The young boy could not help but feel his appetite dissipate, but the sound of feather light steps nearing him had made him guilty. He then takes at least two spoons of rice and three sardines, leaving three more of the fish on the place and approximately 5 more spoons of rice._

 _"_ _I'm sorry it's sardines again, sweetheart—I promise tomorrow we'll have something different—maybe chicken?" her words, akin to a honeyed lie uttered by a prophet of the church and her smile as if had travelled the galaxy and found its meaning to be a void._

 _The boy returns her gentle smile, dimples forming as cerulean hues shone in purity and faux naïveté, "It's alright, Mom. I understand—and besides, I like sardines." No, he lied—the taste of sardines felt rotten, icky and overall similar to metal._

 _The elder woman sat adjacent to him, hands clasped in a prayer as she watched him eat in delight, her smile never fading. He knew why her plate wasn't set and why only one other extra plate was laid on the other side. He knew where she did not hold a spoon and a fork, why she had no chance to eat what was laid in front of them._

 _"_ _Mom—please…," his voice, hoarse and light. His grip on his spoon tightens, teeth gritting as his lips form into a thin line. "You have to—,"_

 _Before he could ever finish his sentence, a man goes down from the second floor—his steps heavy as if it were to break the staircase. His brows furrowed and fists clenched firmly, he looks at the plate and not before long his fist slams the table—shocking both the young boy and the woman._

 _"_ _Dear… w-what's wr-wrong…?" Her voice, though timid and fearful, she suppressed every ounce of trepidation and dyes it with false sweetness._

 _"_ _What's wrong? Are you fucking dumb?! How many times do I have to tell you to set the fucking glasses already, I want my food on_ _ **my plate**_ _to be prepared!" he stomps towards the young woman, thick fingers grabbing a fistful of her amber-red locks as he drags her body on the ground, feet kicking her stomach as he bangs her head on the wall beside. "Eat the fucking wall you stupid bitch!" he leaves her bleeding on the ground, her nose broken and possible a rib had broken—again._

 _The boy suppresses ever sadness, anger, fear, annoyance and every emotion down. He had promised his mother not to show such feelings as it would only bring a more horrifying outcome. Fingers tremble in trepidation as he forcibly tries to eat what's on his plate despite his appetite having depleted completely. He could not bear to look at the woman lying on the ground, struggling to stand._

 _"_ _What if I had died—or maybe if I was never born, maybe if that happened then that'd mean they'd never created me and if that happened it meant that mom and dad were never together in the first place. Maybe if I was a better son, dad would be nicer to mom. Maybe if we had a bigger house and more of those green, rectangular papers and copper or bronze, circular things, we wouldn't have to be living like this." The boy contemplates the sinful desire to disappear rising—burning passionately in his heart._

 ** _It was just a wishful thinking._**

* * *

 _It is an endless cycle._

* * *

"Doc!" Without any warning beforehand, the young lady barges into the clinic without permission—worry evident upon her teary eyes and pale complexion. "Is lightning alright? How is he? He's not injured or anything, right?" She rushes towards the man lying unconscious on the bed and Hudson stops her from making any more rash movements.

"Calm down, listen." He tells her, his rather indifferent tone soothing. "He's just unconscious from fatigue and possibly stress." The male glances back at Lightning then back to Sally, his concern evident despite his rather stoic expression. "Tell me, what's happening to him? He was doing fine this morning."

Her shoulders relax, drooping along with a heavy sigh. "I don't know exactly…," she stops when Hudson gestures to have a talk in another room to give the sleeping man more privacy. She nods in understanding as she readies what her other statements would be.

Soon as they had arrived in the neighbouring room, Hudson gives her a seat as he sits across her. "Alright, continue."

She nods, fixing her position and crossing her legs, her hands clasped together on the table as she heaves another heavy sigh, "There was this—mail, odd since we don't really get mails at this time of the day—usually it's in the morning but anyways, the thing is—it was neither a fan letter or a hate mail—I mean from what we assumed it would be—but rather, it was a parcel full of his old photographs." She stops as Hudson seemed to wish to ask something.

"Old photographs? You mean like childhood pictures?" he inquires, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes, and I thought it was cute—so of course my reaction was positive to it not even being curious as to where it came from or if it was from a stalker—I was bewildered and amused at the fact that these photos actually existed." She pauses catching her breath, "But… it didn't get a positive reaction from Lightning; he was—I don't know how to word it exactly…? Like, um—triggered? It's as if it brought back _something_ he had buried already?" A cant of her head as hands open wide, palms showing and her eyes squinting—uncertainty definite as shoulders shrug.

Hudson sits back, an arm partially crossed upon his abdomen and a hand on his chin, eyes gazing at the ceiling. He emits a soft hum in ponder, head tilted quite a bit as his foot taps in synchronization with his fingers, "He's never been open about his family—he only says they were rich CEO's, the McQueen's never really had a scandal, I've met them once or twice in person and they were actually pretty decent people—I don't see what's wrong or possibly what went wrong with them, he's also said that one time in a party that he was happy to be in that family."

"But Doc, that's the point—if he _was happy_ with the McQueen's and that, as you've said, they are decent people—I doubt that they are his _real family_." She makes a point, her hand on the table as if a concluding idea was set.

Hudson does not rebut as it does make complete sense. Despite growing up in a decent family, if the topic of family relations sets him off, it may as well be because they weren't the first ones to raise him in the first place. "Yeah, but—it doesn't make sense how a parcel triggers him. I do get the concept that it is about family matters, however, something feels like it just doesn't add up." Hudson adds as he props his elbows on the table, leaning a bit forward.

"I agree. I addition to the photographs, there was this little card that said, "I found you." and I do think that's what triggered him the most. Assuming that this person is directly connected to what severed his thoughts on family." Sally connects as she heaves a sigh, "I don't know anymore Doc, I mean—I know shouldn't investigate on this—this is his life and I should wait for him to open up to me but it's been? More than ten years since we've been together, it just feels like I'm still a distant figure to him…" She pauses, thinking of the next words to say, "I'll give him space of course, but I don't know—ugh, I'm being confusing and just circulating my words but it hurts, Doc. I just want to help him, I want to relieve him from this aching memory—and I want him to rely on me." Lithe hands cup as her she buries her head on her palms, heaving heavy sighs as she closes her eyes shut. Her heart rate goes faster and her ribcages shaking and tightening as if to suffocate her fragile heart.

"Don't stress on it too much Sally, I know you've always been the curious kind—you'll be calling yourself a hypocrite if you let it stay quiet while you try to meddle in his affairs. Don't lie to me, I know you've always tried to find your way through things and I don't doubt you've started trying to analyze his old photographs from this parcel you said a while ago." He pauses, seeing he surprise in her emerald green hues. He nods subtly, seeing his assumption was correct, "I understand your struggle, but everything has a reason—there's a reason why the rookie's always kept it low, keeping the topic as minimal as possible—dismissing every opportunity to further expound on the said topic." He pauses, "He trusts you, you know. But this isn't just about trust—it's about learning to let go. He's probably struggling on how to handle it—because family matters is something you can't just disclose to anyone especially since it's been years, he's an adult—bringing up a childhood memory will only further strengthen its grip in your heart." He makes a point as he shakes his head, "It's getting late, he's still got a trip to take—Mack's probably arriving anytime soon to pick him up." He stands up from his seat and pushes the chair back under the table. "You don't have to reply anything to what I said; just reflect on it—anyways, I'll help you carry him out to your house. He needs a bit more rest; surely he's packed his things for the trip already, right?"

Sally nods and thanks the older male, bowing in gratitude as she too pushes the chair back under the table. They exit the room and return to where Lightning was resting.

* * *

 ** _"_** ** _Haven't you grown numb?" I don't understand what you mean._**

 ** _"_** ** _How miserable it must be to have your childhood stripped away from you." I guess._**

 ** _"_** ** _What a tragedy." Yeah._**

 _A boy tucks himself to bed; fiery, crimson red locks a mess as it tangled upon the pillows. Pulling the patched blanket closer to his chest, he turns to the side and curls himself, knees almost close to his chest and one hand holding the blanket as the other curled in a fist. A small flashlight was his only source of light, his room never really had a light, sometimes when unlucky, he'd have to use a candle to have a bit of light in his room._

 _He stares blankly at the grey wall with hints of sticker residue—once he remembers, it had stickers and chalk drawings on it, alas—the wrath of a God's fallacy had befallen upon him._

 _He turns away, facing the other view of the room, memories of simple innocence, the possible blooming of creativity however it had withered before it could've blossomed. All he sees is a door with a gaping hole meant for a knob, tied by a mere string in order for it to be kept closed however it does not disregard the fact that he could see a tiny portion of what is happening at the other side of the door._

 ** _"_** ** _Twinkle, twinkle little star. "_**

 ** _"_** ** _How I wonder what you are."_**

 ** _Truly, I have always longed to be this star—and yet here I am a void—a tear in this universe._**

* * *

Cerulean hues shot wide open; abruptly Lightning stands causing a dizzy reaction, almost nauseous. He raises a hand to his head to steady his swirling mind. Panicking, he scans his surroundings, initially unfamiliar with the orange wallpaper and the rather minimalistic and simple furnishing—much different to what he last envisioned of a room in his mind. The gradual feeling of home and safety returned to him—realizing where he was currently at.

A sigh emits from trembling lips as a hand placed on his chest to calm his pacing heart. "I'm _safe_ , I'm _here_ …."

Lightning looks at the table right beside his bed, a small bowl containing a towel in it, a thermometer right beside it—he looks at his clothing, seeing that his outdoor attire had been changed to something more comfortable and casual. He then takes off the blankets, trying to find Sally, perhaps she was preparing dinner.

The way his slippers had slapped against the floor, the way it scraped as he dragged his feet—its sounds echoed throughout the solemn house. Slowly, Lightning had made his way to the dining which was just right beside the kitchen, "Sally…?"

No response at first, it had made him nervous—however the reply was simply delayed.

"Stickers! You're awake!" Her voice grows louder as they both try to meet halfway. Sally, while holding a spatula and wearing her favourite checkered light blue and white apron, draws a gentle smile upon her lips. "You had a fever a while ago so I had Doc checked up on you and afterwards had you here so you could rest before you go on your trip."

Lightning raises a brow, lost at the mention of "his trip". "What…," and the sudden realization of reality and his schedule had dawned upon him. "Ah shit! I haven't finished—!"

"Ep! Don't stress it, stickers—I've fixed your luggage, all you need is to recheck the list I've made that contains what's inside the luggage." She turns off the stove and grabs a spoon to transfer a bit of the porridge to the bowl. "And also, you've just woken up from having a fever, go and sit down—I'll give you some porridge." Once done, she adds a few spices here and there—a bit of garlic, some drops of lemon as well. She cautiously holds it with two hands, one hand on each side, as she delivers it to her love.

"Here you go, hope it'd just right." She draws a graceful smile akin to ballerina's—her tone soft, and sweet as if it were honey.

Lightning, awestricken at the image. Unconsciously he pulls out a chair and takes a seat, her smile—to overflowing with love—unconditional, pure love. The way there had only been one plate set on the table, food only for him. "H-Hey… u-um, Sal? Why don't you um, maybe—eat some too?" Though he tries to strike a casual conversation like usual, it was different right now.

 _Only two plates were set, initially it had just only been one, despite being three in the family._

"Oh, I'm fine—I ate some of it a while ago!" She reassures him as she takes a seat adjacent to him.

However, this does not soothe his anxiety—rather, it contributes to his fear. He tries to suppress but the more he does, the more evident his fear would be. Sally, unsure of what to do was about to stand up when lightning tells her otherwise, "No—it's fine, you don't have to eat if you don't want to—I'm sorry I'm really just off my game, well, today I guess…." The room falls awkwardly silent once more, lightning's gaze focused down on the porridge, trembling fingers desperate for stability to hold the spoon.

 _"_ _Mom—please…," his voice, hoarse and light. His grip on his spoon tightens, teeth gritting as his lips form into a thin line. "You have to—,"_

"Um—Sally, I… I don't know how to say this but—I'm sorry. I just, don't know how to deal with this." His voice is soft—a kind of side Sally was not used to or aware of. The last time Lightning had been this distant and off was years ago on the third season of the Piston Cup where he had suffered a severe crash causing enough to get him off a whole season.

Sally graces a gentle smile on her lips, eyes silently saying a message of understanding, "I know, I'm sorry too—I should've been more careful. But… please trust me, I—,"

 _"_ _He trusts you, you know."_

"I'll give you space, just—tell me whenever you're ready. I'm all ears and heart to listen and I know you need some time to think about it." And she doubts she'll be able to stop herself from secretly prying further into his life.

He gives a small smile in return, "Thanks Sally, I'm sorry for worrying you—I trust you Sal, I just—I don't know how to talk about it yet…, it's still an alien thing to me, you know? I just." _I've never talked about them in years; I don't know how I'd feel about it._

Lightning continues his meal, though the silence was no longer suffocating. There was comfort and security that had enveloped him.

Not soon after, He had finished his porridge and Sally had prepared his luggage. Mack was already outside waiting with his truck for a while and they could not delay any longer. Lightning gives her a quick, chaste kiss on the lips—eyes showing unconditional love—almost as if begging he could've stayed a little longer with her.

"Oh, don't show me those teary eyes, Stickers." Although she could not deny being teary eyed as well. Despite loving a racer, it was still difficult to see him go to dangerous trips—there had been cases where famous idols were targeted on their interviews, rigged in the game that causes extreme damage to them. Lightning knew all too well what she had been worrying about and holds her hand comfortingly.

"I'll be fine, don't worry—I'll be back in a week so wait for me, alright?" he dares to let go of her hand, but before so—Sally pulls him into a tight hug.

"I'll miss you." She inhales his scent—the comforting familiarity of the porridge a while ago with a hint of lemon—the peppermint odour of his soap and the minty aroma of his perfume.

Before lightning could say anything more, Hudson interrupts them with a cough, "Alright lovebirds; I now you won't be seeing each other but it's just three days. Lightning stop getting all mushy, it's time to go." Despite his cold words, there was a hint of playfulness.

A hint of pink hue tints her cheeks in embarrassment as she lets go and nods. Waving a quick bye, she watches her love get inside the vehicle. She waves one last goodbye until he is out of sight.

* * *

 _You'll be safe._

* * *

In approximately seven hours and a half—finally they have reached their destination, Los Angeles. It was a good thing they had left at night in order to arrive around six in the morning—who knew the traffic was this awful?

"Hey, kid—wake up. We're here." Although Hudson's words fall on deaf ears, there was some sort of reaction from the racer—his eye twitches as he emits a grumble, attempting to turn and go back to sleep. "Kid—don't even go all lazy on me, you've got to fix your things and room."

Lightning sighs, hazy eyes slowly opening—he emits a yawn as he stretches. "I'm awake, yeah—I'm awake, Doc." Though still groggy, he attempts to sit up. Back slouched and head drooping, begging to lie down and continue resting.

Hudson simply shakes his head; it had always been like his, during long travels Lightning would be too hard to wake up once arrived at the destination. "Then show me, go the hell out of this car." He steps aside from the door as he watches the other male exit the vehicle like a slug.

Once on the ground, there was a few seconds of still life, not before long, Lightning had become aware of his surroundings and was fully conscious. "Alright, I'm awake—fully awake."

Hudson nods in approval, "Alright, c'mon now—your luggage's been delivered to your room, just go unpack. I'm set beside your room so if anything ever happens I'll be nearby." He informs him as they both walk into Roschenfort Hotel.

Lightning was mesmerized at the appearance of this hotel, though he had stayed in many other five star hotels, this was still, by far, the best of all five star hotels—its service and hospitality like no other, its aesthetic and furnishings beyond simple human existence, its cuisine and dining service almost as if food for the divine. This was, so far, his first time in this hotel. The astonishment is evident within cerulean hues as he tries to stock the imagery in his photographic memory. In contrast, there was Doc who was simply walked in not amused; it had irritated Lightning when the other was too indifferent of such great things.

Once they had reached the front desk, the lady simply hands them their room cards as Hudson had already arranged the papers beforehand. The two gentlemen thank the lady and were then escorted by an employee to the elevators. Once they arrive at the doors of their own rooms, Lightning gazes absentmindedly at his key card.

"Kid, just swipe—," Though Hudson tries to break the boy's daydreaming with a playful insult, Lightning shakes his head and raises a hand in gesture that he knows what to do.

"Doc, I've been to other hotels, I know how these things work." There was a pout and a puff of his cheeks as the racer sighs. Hudson inwardly smiles and emits a scoff in response.

Lightning was again alone as soon as he hears the click of the door close. He gazes at the luggage placed neatly by the closet but he ignores it for the meantime, exploring the room. He first inspects the bathroom, its aroma enticing and relaxing, as if it were a spa. He leaves a light open in the bathroom before closing the door again and proceeds to go to the main room. One look at the bed, he could feel his whole body aching for rest once again—it's pure, white sheets, it's tempting, soft pillows and comforters.

"Maybe next time I should have Sally and I have a vacation here…," he mumbles to himself—he could only imagine how contented and relaxed his love would be. He could imagine wrapping his arms around her petite waist, his nose buried within baby blue locks, her hand intertwined with his, he could just—

He shakes his head off his daydreams, it was bad enough he was off his game this afternoon, it'll be worse if this goes on while in an interview. He emits a sigh as he begins to fix his luggage. Placing some of his clothes in the closet and keeping the rest in the bag. He glances at the digital clock; it'll be in an hour before the interview starts and so he decides to take a quick shower.

He picks up the clothes his racing attire as per instructed by his sponsor, Tex Dinoco, and a towel before indulging himself in a soothing bathe.

* * *

 _Start again._

* * *

It was currently 7:53 am, Sally could've sword she had her alarm set at 6:30 am. She wondered what went wrong. Did she turn it off unconsciously or did she forget to set it in the first place? She shrugs as she sits up from her bed, staring at the empty space beside her. She was never the kind to get used to this despite Lightning going on trips often due to work. A heavy sigh escapes her lips, shoulders drooping and body growing limp. She missed him.

She drags her feet off the bed, slipping in her slippers as she walks over at the windows—pulling the curtains and seeing the faint, yellow-orange light emitted by the sunrise. A stretch as she yawns, turning her heels and walks towards the kitchen, "Oh, Stickers' interview should be live in about an hour—," she pauses before she arrives in the kitchen and makes a detour, grabbing the remote, she turns on the television and switching it to the new channel in order for it to be ready while she's fixing herself and her food.

As she takes a bowl with leftover porridge from the fridge, her gaze glances at a box that was placed on the table. A tinge of guilt twisting her heart strings. She knows it was wrong to pry, but her curious nature had never stopped her from going what she wanted to know. She shakes her head, contemplating whether or not to wait for her love to return and tell her about the issue—she knows this was the right thing to do, but perhaps a little bit of knowledge and research wouldn't hurt?

"I should…," Sally closes the door of the fridge, her words trailing off as she places the bowl right beside the microwave, her gaze focused on the box. "I shouldn't…," _But I want to know, I want to help._

* * *

 _It will not end._

* * *

By the time Lightning had finished fixing himself, it was already 8:30 am, in thirty minutes the interview would start—he wondered if going earlier than planned would be best but before he could've confirmed his decision, his stomach growls in hunger. A sigh as he shakes his head—it had been hours since his last meal and technically he hadn't had breakfast.

Supposedly, he was going to prepare himself a cup of coffee if it wasn't for the knock on his door and the ring of the doorbell that disturbed him. He rolls his eyes as he walks towards the door, peeking through the tiny glass hole. "Ah, it's Doc…," he mumbles to himself as he unlocks it.

"What's up?" his gaze lower to what Hudson had in hand. "Oh." He blinks in confusion but smiles regardless, he moves aside to let the other in.

"Thought you might be hungry so while you were preparin' and all, I ordered some food, the service was too hasty and troublesome so I just brought it myself." He says with a huff. Entering the room, he places the food on the table as he takes a seat beside it. "So how's your room?" He asks, rather off topic.

Lightning shrugs, "Well, it's a room—nothing much, but the bathroom is great, and the bed's soft I guess. It's really comfortable and relaxing." He remarks. "What about yours?" He had no idea where this conversation was heading to; it wasn't like him to just ask about rooms. He closes the door and walks over to where Hudson was and takes a seat across him. The older male pushes the food towards Lightning and he simply thanks him lightly, a smile upon his lips as he unpacks what was inside the container.

"Too soft—the bed is too soft for me." Hudson says in disdain, having been accustomed to a harder (and older) mattress.

There was a few seconds of awkward silence, only the clock's ticking prominent within the room. "Do you—" before he could've finished, Hudson shakes his head, "I've already eaten, kid."

The room falls silent again.

"I know—, it's been hard lately. I don't know what's up with you, but Mater found you unconscious in your car when you crashed into the cactus pit again." Hudson starts to get the attention of the other. "he panicked, not knowing what to do if he'd drag the drag with you inside or break the glass open, good thing I was there—but nevertheless, that's dangerous—I mean, what you're doing." Though his tone was stoic in nature, there was of a hint of concern—he had always been akin to a guardian to him.

Lightning's gaze drops, his appetite gone. "I know, I'm just—I guess lost." If there's one person, other than Sally, that he could trust—it was him, Doc Hudson. "I mean, it's just so sudden, I've been living a normal-ish, life—then in just one mail, I've lost all my focus. I feel like, I'll lose everything."

Hudson nods, gesturing that he was listening. "First off, I wouldn't call a racer's life 'normal', kid—I don't even know what normal is to you—but, don't let it all in by yourself. What's in the past isn't the present; don't bottle it all up because you've got your team."

The racer emits a quaint laughter, surely—a racer had a life different from what other's call normal. "I guess you're right about the normal part…," his smile dissipates as he emits a sigh, "Yeah, I know what you mean… I'm sorry, I just don't know how to order it out in my head, it… it's all a mess." Though it had been oh so long ago, the memories still stayed vivid, its colours—it's sensations crawling upon his skin, gnawing and biting his flesh from the inside, burning the natural acids he had in his body.

"It's alright, take your time." Hudson draws a gentle smile on his lips before standing up. "In about five minutes we'll be leaving—the interviewing room is set up and people are gathering, got a glimpse of it when I was getting food." He dusts off his pants then crosses his arms. I'll just be outside waiting.

"Ah, you don't have to wait—I'll be done in a sec." he gobbles up all what's left in the Tupperware, he wasn't exactly a slow eater in the first place, in fact he was a monster when it comes to food—who knew he wasn't just speed in running or racing, but also eating.

Hudson nods as he walks towards the door while Lightning fixes the table and quickly brushes his teeth. He takes one last look at his teeth through the reflection of the mirror and turns off the lights and leaving only one open. He places his hands around his pockets seeing if his phone and wallet were there. Nodding as he had all his important things in hand, he and Hudson then leave the room.

* * *

 _It's a cycle, dear._

* * *

Soon afterwards, they had arrived in the interviewing room.

The flashing of lights had blinded the two men temporarily, the loud clicking of cameras and mixed voices growing louder and louder—however, Lightning did not show any sign of disdain but rather showed his usual smile, a finger gun and a mention of his iconic line to impress the media and the fans who wished to witness the interview live.

 _"_ _Mister McQueen, please show us your smile!"_

 _"_ _Mister McQueen, please say your line!"_

 _"_ _I love you Lightning!"_

 _"_ _Lightning! I'm your biggest fan!"_

Despite Lightning's great love for fans and the media, somehow—today it felt like each eye on him was a threat. He could not prevent the nauseous feeling of being seen.

Hudson noticed the young racer's discomfort therefore he decides to take initiative and blocking the cameras by sticking closer to Lightning. He, too, was swarmed by the paparazzi—it didn't bother him as much as it did to Lightning, he had learned how to be apathetic towards such things.

Once they've arrived on stage, the host then introduces them a warm welcome, "Good Morning ladies and gentlemen! This is Mary Evergreen speaking as your host and we are honoured to introduce to you to the famous, and one and only Lightning McQueen, alongside with him is his crew chief—no other than the Fabulous Hudson Hornet!" The spotlight redirects from the host to the two men, they gesture a wave in greeting then shake hands with the host before they were escorted to their respective seats. The crowd applauded and cheered as the snapping of photos went louder, trying to catch the perfect pose, angle and lighting.

"So, Mister McQueen—Mister Hornet, how are you feeling today?" A simple and generic start by the host.

"Eh, a bit peachy—just had breakfast so I feel too lax." Lightning starts with a chuckle, "Nevertheless, I'm feeling quite happy to be here—thanks so much for inviting us." He adds before giving the next statement to Hudson.

"We are, of course, grateful—and well—I guess I'm feeling proud this kid's just stepping up y'know." He himself wasn't even sure of what to say, the absent feeling—the lingering concern for the unresolved issue of his young racer.

Mary simply nods before moving onto the next question, "First off is a question directed to Mister Hudson." A pause as she glances to the older male, "In Mister McQueen's last race, you were not present, may we know why?"

Hudson starts off with a heavy sigh, "Considering it has been a while, but at that time I got into an accident—which I will not say what it is in specific however it did lead me to a comatose that lasted for months. I couldn't possibly train the kid with my state, I do feel bad for letting him go on his own, never would've thought it had caused him a crash of a lifetime." Though there was evident guilt in his tone, he suppressed overflowing it, forcing his naturally lax nature to cover it up. He glances to Lightning, a gaze almost as if apologizing to him.

The host almost had tears in her eyes, "I—, oh um! That is a heart wrenching statement, sir. We are glad that you are able to recover, anyways a follow up question. Mister McQueen has announced his official retirement and is now taking position as Dinoco's new recruit, Miss Cruz Ramirez's crew chief—Mister Hudson, what is your insight on his decision?"

"Well, I was—shocked, at first. I guess it was just all too much information you know; waking up and suddenly time passed by and they've all moved forward. Bah—this is getting sentimental, but you could say that I'm really proud of where the kid's got to. He's young, he's got talent and more so he's got a kind heart. I know full well he'll be the greatest crew chief I know—I mean next ti myself." He emits a faint laughter at his joke.

Lightning simply rolls his eyes as the older male nudges his side.

"Mister McQueen, regarding your previous race and considering that this is your retirement, what do you wish to say to your fans and loved ones?"

The young racer then crosses his arms, quite unsure of what to say, "Well—y'know, I just want to thank you all for sticking by me—for the whole eleven seasons of this races you all have been cheering me on—supporting me and all, and I wouldn't have gotten at this point if it weren't for you all. And I guess it's just my calling now that it's time to end my journey as a racer. I um, I guess, you could say it's a bit disappointing for me I couldn't offer anymore races like I used to, but hopefully—we all could now support the other racers who are reaching their way to the top. And other than my fans and supporters—I want to thank my family the most who've been supportive of me with my decision to be a racer. If it weren't for them I guess I wouldn't be here in the first place. Mom, Dad, thank you for giving me the chance to live."

The room falls silent, it was a little sensitive topic to talk about the McQueen's; it had been around fifteen years since the tragedy of the RMS Magdalene—after it had a collision with another ship due to unforeseen change of weather, there was no way it could've been avoided. Of all the 2'000 passengers, only 461 passengers were found—and 232 of which are said to have survived, the rest have still been missing and the McQueen's were unfortunately included in the ones who have never been found.

Hudson knows the history of that, but hearing more of about this uncovering mystery, he could not help but wonder if the racer had a double meaning to his last statement.

"I thank you for your honesty, I'm sure your parents who are above the heavens are watching you with a smile on their lips." A pause as her grip on her microphone tightens; Mary had always been easily moved. "Now moving on, I'm giving this time for the other interviewers to give their chance to ask mister McQueen and Mister Hudson their own questions."

One by one they were given the chance,

"Mister McQueen! Is it true that you are currently in a relationship?" The first question throws the racer off his focus. Although he had made it official that he is not open for any relationship as he was currently staying loyal to one, he had never mentioned in specific who that person was. Sally had preferred to keep her identity low and unknown, not wanting to cause any disturbance or a "title" to her name. He knew that she didn't want to be regarded as "Lightning McQueen's girlfriend" although technically she is, she didn't want to be branded in such a way.

"Well, yes—yes I am." A soft smile graces his lips. It was simply a categorical question, no need for an explanation for specifics.

"Mister McQueen and Mister Hudson, opinions regarding the new generation of racers?"

Hudson and Lightning exchanged glances, wondering who should go first however Hudson gave the spotlight first to the other. "Well, for me—I guess it's shocking, when I was young I thought I was the best; it was a blast—being the fresh new car, but time went by and there's suddenly a whole new generation taking racing into a whole new level. I guess… it was just overwhelming how time went by?" He gives a nod to end his statement.

"As for me, it was to be expected—time goes by and back when I had some trouble with the new generation you could say I was troubled; you know—there's this nagging thought telling you and making you hope it's not yet that time. If you know what I mean, I guess I could just say that I'm wishing them all the good luck, they're goin' to take racing to a whole new future ahead."

Before the next question could've been said, the lights have all turned off. The staff immediately alerted their power station and before the energy could've been retrieved, only a red dot had been seen by the majority of the crowd before a gunshot had echoed throughout the hall.

* * *

A/N: hello again! Here's to a new chapter! I've decided to update at least once a week, I'm so sorry if it takes so long? Due to school I have no time for myself on weekdays so all I have is weekends! Thank you again for sticking by me, hoping this chapter was alright to you all! I'm so sorry for the slow pace, I've began writing titles for each chapter. (CH 1: resurfacing, CH 2: cyclic) to give a bit of info on the main idea of the chapters. Chapter two is titled as it is since it revolves on the repetitive wandering back into the past, hoping that clears something up!

Anyways, please do leave a review on how the chapter is thank you and have a lovely day!


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